


Something Changed

by kaleidoscope_sunrise



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Depressing, Drug Use, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Kindness, Other, Sad, Self destruction, Sibling Rivalry, do tags even matter ??, what r tags, why is this so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscope_sunrise/pseuds/kaleidoscope_sunrise
Summary: Sherlock receives some news that snaps him out of his selfish, drug addled mind. He needs to get back to his parents' countryside home as quickly as possible, but with no money and no friends to help him, will he make it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I literally just wrote this last night and I never ever usually post anything I write but I feel kind of impulsive so here goes. This is the second thing I've ever posted so it's probably super terrible and I apologise for any mistakes. I don't really check my work in detail or anything I just wrote for fun. But yeah sorry if it's bad! Also pleeeeease leave feedback if you can cos I really wanna know what you think and I'd also really like to chat to and make some friends that are into similar things? I'm pretty lonely and don't have any friends that are into writing or anything and I just wanna share ideas and talk about my interests with someone who gets it! Sorry I'm going off on one, anyway, enjoy !!!!
> 
> Ps I will post another chapter ASAP, probably later today :)

Sherlock had just gotten off the phone to Mycroft. 

He was numb. 

He hadn't been in contact with any of his family including Mycroft for at least 6 months. His parents and his brother had found out about his latest relapse. It had been the final straw. They had helped him overcome his addiction several times, they had let him move in back home, paid for rehab, they had done all they could to help him each time, but now they had had enough. 

 

...

6 months earlier.

 

'Mother, I regret to inform you that my dearest brother is using yet again' Mycroft didn't get a reply, all he heard were the pained shrieks of his devastated mother as she cried at the other end of the phone. 

The next day, Mycroft had the police perform a drugs bust at sherlocks flat. He was found to have a large amount of cocaine, as well as morphine in his possession and was arrested. 

Mycroft had worked his magic and had Sherlock released, but he had sternly told his brother that he would receive no help from the Holmes family nor was he to have contact with his mother or father until he was clean. 

Sherlock at this point had become aggressive and told Mycroft he didn't need their help and refused a lift back to his flat. 

His older brother sighed as he watched him storm away from the police station. 

 

...

 

Sherlock shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times as he snapped away from the memory that was playing in his mind palace. 

He rubbed his hands over his cold, pale face and breathed out slowly. The news that Mycroft had just delivered hit him like a tonne of bricks as he pushed away the needle he had been about to use before the phone had rang. 

His mother was ill and there was a possibility she might not make it through the night. 

Mycroft had told Sherlock to get back home as quickly as he could, but before Sherlock had chance to tell his older brother he had no money and therefore no way of getting home, Mycroft hung up on him. 

Sherlock stared at the needle and the bag of white powder that lay in front of him on his messy coffee table and suddenly felt immense guilt.  
He scrambled to his feet and made his way to his cluttered kitchen and pulled the cupboards open and began to knock all the contents out until he found a jar with coppers in. 

Throwing it the floor to smash it open, Sherlock fell to his knees and began to quickly count the loose change, collecting it in one hand and picking it up with the other. 

There was about three pounds with all the copper that was there.

'Fuck' he cursed under his breath as he threw it to the floor. 

Jumping up, he dashed to his bedroom and got to the floor beside his bed, reaching beneath it before pulling out a cardboard box. 

He opened the box and routed through the old photos and trinkets he stored inside it. Getting increasingly frustrated, Sherlock tipped the box upside down so that all the contents pooled onto the wood floor in front of him. He spread it out with his hands, eyes darting through the objects until he found it. A crumpled £10 note that his late grandfather had given him the last time he had seen him before he died 13 years ago. 

Sherlock had never been able to spend it. 

He didn't do 'sentiment', or so he made out. But no one had ever found out about the box of special things he kept. 

Holding the note in his hand, Sherlock felt his stomach churn. He couldn't ever spend this, could he? 

'Grandad would want you to use this if it were an emergency' he told himself in his head. 

Breathing out quickly, he folded the note and tucked it into his shirt pocket. 

Dashing back into the sitting room of his dark, dusty flat, he stood in front of his book shelf and began pulling books down and throwing them to the floor in search of any money that he may have once hidden inside them. 

He found nothing apart from a couple of two pence coins and a lot of dust which made him sneeze. 

Sherlock screamed in anger as he tipped his chair over and pulled out the slipper he stored his cigarettes inside. Again he found no money, but he did find two packets of cigs. 

He was beginning to shake with all the stress and emotion that was building up inside of him as he pulled on his long coat over his battered battered jumper and shirt. He wrapped his scarf around his neck, shoved the cigs in his pockets, picked up his phone and left 221b. 

 

...


End file.
